


Reunion

by AtropaAzraelle (Polyoxyethylene)



Series: Of Walls and Nerds [19]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Arguing, Fluff, M/M, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/AtropaAzraelle
Summary: Gladio had left to attend to business. When he returned, he finally explained what that business was, but did the Shield of the King really think through his decision to go and face a trial not even Cor could pass?





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey look, a fic. I finally managed to get one out. Life's been busy but I'm still here. I'm working on something but it might be a while before you see it. In the meantime, have this.
> 
> There's no porn in this one, for a change.
> 
> As always, my deepest thanks to everyone for reading, kudosing, and commenting on my fics. I appreciate them all more than you can know.

When Gladio emerged from the power plant with Noctis and removed his helmet, Ignis's face was unreadable. Gladio tried to meet his eyes, but Ignis looked away, arms folded, putting on that air of polite patience that he always used when he was waiting for Noct. He shed the outfit, fireproof overclothes that were sweltering and cumbersome to wear, and Prompto greeted him cheerfully as he dropped them on a bench and rejoined the others.

“So the hunter who went on ahead,” Ignis began, looking Gladio over as he spoke.

“The one and only,” Gladio confirmed, with a grin on his face. “How ya been fellas?”

“Not bad!” Prompto answered, and then paused, his eyes taking in the new scars Gladio bore. “Whoa, someone did a number on you though.”

Ignis was looking too, taking in the scar across his chest. “You should see the other guy,” Gladio replied, brushing off the concern. “Anyway I'm back,” he said, “and better than ever.”

He saw Ignis's eyes take in the scar across his forehead, and then he turned away. “Now that we have the Mythril, we need to get it to Cid,” he said.

Noct gave a murmur of disagreement. “What's the rush?” he asked. “I say we help with the daemon problem a bit first.”

“Yeah!” Prompto agreed, “Plus, Gladio just got back. I bet he's missed your cooking.”

Ignis threw Gladio a glance that ran over the scar on his chest and the uncertainly hopeful smile on his face before he murmured agreement and said, “Knowing Gladio, he's been living on cup noodles this entire time.” He turned to Noct, his mouth a firm line. “If you want to take on some daemons then we need to find a tipster, but you should not let yourself get waylaid. Might I remind you that Lady Luna awaits you in Altissia.”

Gladio watched as Ignis turned away from him again, and he grimaced. “Eyes always on the prize,” he said. He wasn't about to confirm Ignis's suspicions because he'd only get huffed at and dragged off to consume a salad. “So, did you miss me?”

“Well, it was hard getting the campfire going without you,” Prompto answered, giving Gladio a grin.

“Yeah,” Noct agreed, flashing Gladio a smile that bordered on cheeky, “but Aranea had our backs. Her and Specs really got on.”

“Aranea?” Gladio asked. That wasn't a name he'd expected to hear, especially in the list of people Ignis had _got on_ with. Alarm bells started to sound in his head.

“She's amazing,” Prompto said, sounding thoroughly smitten. “We'll tell you at camp.”

Gladio grumbled, finding an uncomfortable burn of jealousy in his chest. It was stupid, he knew; they were allowed to make friends, but he'd hoped for his reunion with the guys to be a bit more enthusiastic. He'd got back to Caem, only to be told that the others were still off the radar in their hunt for mythril, so he'd taken a chocobo to Lestallum and thrown his hand in there. It had been nice, for a while, to live as a hunter, taking down monsters and staying where he could. He'd let the other three take the camping equipment, so he hadn't been able to camp through it and really live his dream, but it had been close enough.

Close enough except for the Ignis shaped hole in his day, at least. The world was quiet without Prompto, and the days were long without Noct, but _everything_ was hollow without Ignis. Even the taste of cup noodles had started to wear a little thin, so he'd tried coming up with his own recipes for them, trying to think the way Ignis would. If he added some mince, perhaps? Or maybe an egg? Shrimp was another good one that might go well.

There was no warm hand to slip into his at the edge of a haven as they watched the stars, no knowing green eyes sparkling in the evening light. No matter where he stayed there was no reassuring weight in the bed with him, no leg that hooked around his own. When he'd been making his way to Gilgamesh he'd been focused on his task, and it had all seemed manageable. So he threw himself into the hunting and hoped the guys got back soon.

He'd agreed to take on the daemon problem in the Exineris plant the day before. Other hunters had tried and hadn't been successful, having to run for their lives before they could wipe them all out. The voice of the guy he'd been paired with was familiar, and the second he saw him draw a weapon he knew. He hadn't let on, though. He half wondered if Noct had noticed him as easily, or if he'd been away too long for his voice and stature to be so recognisable.

He hadn't expected Ignis to be so distant when they'd met again. Had he felt it, he wondered? That distance, that aching chasm of absence that was being apart? How long the days were, how lonely the nights? A part of him had known it was madness to hope for Ignis to throw himself into his arms and kiss him fiercely regardless of the audience, but he could have at least smiled.

Iris's voice pulled Gladio from his thoughts. She, at least, was happy to see all of them, and Ignis stopped a few steps away and listened as she asked, “So, Gladdy, did you apologise to Noct for storming off like that?”

Gladio was ready to protest that he hadn't stormed anywhere, let alone _off_ but Noct got there first. “He made it up to me in there,” he said.

Gladio looked to Ignis, who met his eyes for a second and then looked away again, his mouth tightening. Did they think he'd left in a huff? He hadn't told them where he was going, sure, but that was because he hadn't wanted them to worry. Especially not Ignis, who would have done everything in his power to talk Gladio out of it, and it probably would have worked, too. That was why he couldn't say anything to him. Facing the trial of Gilgamesh was something Gladio had to do.

_A weak shield protects nought._

The words had stung but they'd been right. Gladio couldn't protect anyone if he was so weak that he got thrown against the car by Ravus. Noct's prospective brother-in-law wasn't the worst thing they were likely to face on their quest to retrieve the crystal.

“The power plant? Oh, so you got your hands on some mythril,” Iris said, cheerfully. “In that case, I'll go deliver it to Cid.” Gladio watched as Ignis folded his arms, his excuse for stalking off stripped away. “You'll probably wanna freshen up first anyway,” Iris said, her attention firmly on Noct instead of on her brother. Her crush never had died down. “Come and meet me in Caem when you're ready!”

“Freshening up sounds like a good plan,” Prompto said.

Noct shrugged as they started off, making their way into the heart of Lestallum. “Let's see if there are any hunts nearby, first. We're the only ones that seem to be able to help with the daemons.”

Ignis walked alongside Noct, his long stride keeping up with Noct easily and leaving Gladio to trail behind. Of course, they'd always kept their relationship low key around Noct and Prompto. They'd kept their relationship low key _anyway_. After their antics at the ball before leaving it wasn't as if Noctis didn't know, but Ignis had insisted on at least the veneer of professionalism.

Gladio was cursing it now. He'd missed Ignis, and he wanted to hold him, breathe him in, get re-acquainted, which was a polite euphemism for _fuck him long and slow into the bed until neither of them could walk_. Ignis, meanwhile, seemed intent on bottling up what had to be weeks of pent up frustration, which meant that Gladio had to do the same.

The tipster, it turned out, had a whole catalogue of daemons for them to take on. Noct picked one outside the city, reasoning that they'd just cleared the power plant, so the ones on the list that had been appearing there were unlikely to show their faces again for a night or two, but this one had been lurking every single night without fail.

Which meant that they left the city, and the promise of a hotel bed, and time alone with Ignis and headed out to find their quarry. After Gilgamesh, and the lost souls of the dead and the daemons that lay on the path to him, and the trials Gladio had forged through, fights seemed almost laughably easy. He was stronger, could defend better, and the sword he'd won from Gilgamesh was lighter than he was used to, and moved faster. The sword he'd won from Gilgamesh that had been the Marshal's when the Marshal had been fifteen and filled with the cocky sense of immortality that all teenagers were, and, Cor had said, when they'd rested one evening, that failed to dissipate when you hit your twenties either, and was dead wrong at all ages but especially at those ones.

“So,” Ignis said, as they found a haven to spare themselves heading back to Lestallum in the dead of night, “ _did_ you subsist on cup noodles the entire time you were gone?”

Gladio had the good grace to look abashed as he gave Ignis an awkward, guilty grin and scratched the back of his neck. Hell but Ignis looked beautiful in the light of a campfire, the flickering flames lending a warmth to his pale skin and a sparkle to his eyes. “Well,” he defended, “I left the camping supplies with you.”

Ignis rolled his eyes as he sighed and turned away. “If it wasn't for me you'd be dead of a heart attack by now,” he said, his voice cutting clearly through the air as he stalked to his supplies of ingredients.

“If it wasn’t for you I'd be dead of a lot of things by now,” Gladio replied, a fond quirk to his lips as he watched Ignis look over his ingredients and then pull out his notebook of recipes. It wasn't quite the passionate kiss he longed for, but Ignis fussing about his nutritional intake was about as direct an expression of affection as he was likely to get while the kids watched.

“Don't I know it,” came the reply.

Gladio watched him flick through his notebook, only dimly aware of the unguarded affection on his face until the sound of Prompto clearing his throat broke into his thoughts. “Don't tell me you forgot how to set up the tent,” he said, recovering.

“Don't know if you've noticed, big guy,” Prompto replied, sass and amusement in his tone. He stamped his foot twice, “But this is solid rock. We don't all have the strength to hammer tent pegs into it.”

“How'd you manage while I was gone?” Gladio asked, folding his arms.

“With great difficulty,” Prompto answered, drawing out the word great until it was almost a song.

He lost himself in the busywork of finishing off the camp set up, the heat from the fire keeping away the chill of the night and lighting the haven in a warm, orange glow. When they were done Gladio planted the genji blade against his chair and dropped into it. It felt like he'd come home, at last. They were out under the stars, but there was the sound of Noct and Prompto chatting about their game and laughing, and the enticing smell of whatever Ignis was cooking, and fuck if Gladio would never admit out loud that it smelled a thousand times more tantalising than cup noodles but it did, and _he'd missed this_.

Ignis outdid himself with the food, piling much more onto Gladio's plate than he usually would, and he'd made not just one dish but a selection of Gladio's favourites; skewered wild trout, and Gladio's favourite prairie skewers, and even garula ribs. Gladio ate until he couldn't move, groaning happily at the sensation of a full stomach.

Then the questions began, about where he'd been, and where the scar had come from. He considered brushing it off, but he knew that if he did he'd only get questioned again tomorrow, and all through the day, and into the night. So he told them about Cor, and Gilgamesh’s trials. He lost himself in reliving the fights, how he'd had to take down some things on the way to the trials, with Cor's help, how the walls were decorated with the pinned skeletons of past people to attempt the trial, and fail, how he'd taken on daemons on his own to be granted greater power.

Then he told them of Gilgamesh, who had lost an arm to Cor when Cor was just fifteen, and Cor _still_ hadn't been good enough to succeed. How Gladio himself _had_ succeeded only when he'd realised that it didn't matter whether Gilgamesh said he'd passed or not. He wouldn't be any less Noct's Shield if he walked away in defeat, and win or lose wouldn't affect how fiercely he'd defend his King. He'd give his all, no matter the outcome of the trial.

Ignis looked thoughtful afterwards, musing on the nature of Gilgamesh without looking at Gladio. They played a game of King's Knight before Ignis, ever the mother hen, told them they should get some sleep. If they wanted to cash in the bounty for their mark they needed to head back to Lestallum in the morning. Then they could assess whether the power plant required further assistance.

“Want me to help clean up?” he offered, as Prompto and Noct made their way inside the tent.

“It's quite all right, Gladio,” Ignis replied. “I'm sure you need your rest.”

“Maybe I need you more?” Gladio countered, moving in close to Ignis's back and sliding a hand to his hip.

Ignis stilled. It wasn't a freeze, a tense cessation of movement like prey that has sensed a predator, it was more like a physical quietness falling over them both. “You've waited this long,” Ignis said, his voice a little softer than it had been, “one more night won't kill you.”

Gladio pressed in closer, tucking his nose into the ends of Ignis's hair and brushing his lips gently across the back of his neck. “You sound sure.”

Ignis bowed his head and turned. A hand came up to Gladio's chest and pushed him back a step, just one step, while Ignis turned to face him. “Get some rest,” he said, firmly. Gladio brought the backs of his fingers up to stroke Ignis's cheek, and for a second Ignis seemed willing to enjoy it. Then he took Gladio's wrist in his hand. “I mean it, Gladio,” he said. “This isn't the place.”

Gladio dropped his hand and frowned. “Are you okay?”

Ignis frowned, and looked up at him. Gladio saw the sigh more than he heard it; Ignis's shoulders dropped slowly and his eyes fell closed. A wan smile passed by his lips, barely lasting long enough to settle. “This isn't the place,” he repeated, slowly easing one hand up onto Gladio's shoulder. “It's been a long day,” he said, quietly, “go and get some rest. I'll be in shortly.”

Gladio brushed his thumb along Ignis's jawline, lingering at his chin for a moment. The urge to lean in and kiss Ignis was strong, and he didn't bother to fight it, moving forward to press his lips softly against Ignis's. He didn't push, didn't try to press his tongue in and see how strong Ignis's resolve was right now. They'd had sex at havens before; quick trysts, all hands and mouths, with rock at their backs and the stars above while Noct and Prompto slept in the tent. It wasn't the reunion he wanted with Ignis tonight, so he didn't push. “I missed you,” he said, as he pulled away.

Ignis opened his eyes again, meeting Gladio's before he bowed his head with a soft smile. “I missed you too,” he replied. “Now go and do as you're told, please.”

The order brought a grin to Gladio's face, and he replied, “Yes, captain,” before he turned to head into the tent.

The drive back to Lestallum the next morning was filled with the chatter of Noct and Prompto. Along the way they passed a lay-by, and Prompto decided he simply _had_ to have a photo of them all there, and Noct decided they simply _had_ to indulge Prompto, which meant that Ignis _had_ to turn the car around and head back to it, and the one thing Gladio had learned about photography in his time with Prompto was that photoshoots were never as quick as you thought they'd be.

It was getting to evening before they got to Lestallum. The sky was black, and the air was thick with humidity. Gladio could already feel the sweat rolling down his back. It was an uncomfortable walk back up to the tipster through the sweltering heat, and the seats at the outside restaurant were warm to the touch and uncomfortable.

The power plant still had a daemon problem, the tipster confirmed. They were weaker than the ones Noct and Gladio had cleared, but they were still making the place dangerous for the workers. If the workers couldn't work in the power plant then the power plant couldn't run safely, and if the plant couldn't run safely then lights could start going out all over Lucis. Outposts all over could lose their protection from the daemons.

They took the hunt on without much discussion, and then parted ways so Noct and Prompto could secure enough of the heatproof overalls for them all to enter the plant, while Ignis went to book them rooms at the Leville. Gladio trailed after Ignis, since Noct didn't need a babysitter while he walked around Lestallum.

“I reckon we've got a couple of hours,” he said, leaning on the counter at the reception while the clerk retrieved their keys.

The look Ignis shot at him burned, his eyes finding Gladio just past the corner of his lenses, and then returning to the reappearing clerk without a word. Gladio took a step back, confusion sweeping over him. Ignis had looked, for half a second, pissed at him.

He took the keys from the clerk with a polite thank you and then turned, without a word to Gladio, to make his way up to the rooms. Gladio lingered, feeling lost. Ignis had seemed fine so far, although they hadn't spoken much. The last time they'd really spoken had been at camp last night. They hadn't had any proper time alone.

Apparently Ignis had been saving up a chewing out for when he could get Gladio alone.

Gladio grimaced at that possibility. Getting told off by Ignis wasn't new exactly, but it was usually done with the exasperated fondness that he showed to Noct. They'd always fought rarely, even back in Insomnia, but, Gladio remembered, when they had, they were scorching rows full of pain and anger. They'd always been about Noct, though, and this didn't feel like it was about Noct.

With a resigned sigh Gladio willed his feet to move and follow after Ignis. Arguments were like sticking plasters, the kind that stuck to the hair on your skin and yanked it out strand by strand as you removed them. You could do it slowly, teasing each painful root out bit by bit over the course of minutes and hours, and hope you didn't press back down and have to go over ground you'd already covered again, or you could do it quickly and have it over in a second but leave your skin red and raw and vulnerable. There was no good way to do it, regardless of what advice your parents might have always given; either way was going to hurt, and whether you preferred tiny flecks of piercing pain, over in as long as you could stand it, or to take it all in one go and then try not to cry afterwards was up to you.

“Hit me with it,” Gladio said, when he'd shut the hotel door behind him. He leaned back against it, waiting for the onslaught. Ignis was a man of calculated words, and sometimes they stung worse than any blow from his daggers might. Sometimes Gladio wondered if he wouldn't prefer for Ignis to just punch him and be done with it.

“You left us.”

Gladio looked at Ignis, who had his back to him as he checked the bedding for stains and stray hairs with an efficiency that suggested the bed had offended him. “Uh,” Gladio replied, feeling wrongfooted.

“You left me,” Ignis said, clarifying, “left _Noct_ , to go haring off on some bloody suicide mission for the sake of your ego.”

Gladio scowled at that. “It wasn't a suicide mission,” he began. It wasn't for the sake of his ego, either. He hadn't been sure he could protect them, all of them, Noct of course, but by the Six, Ignis and Prompto too.

“It damn well should have been!” Ignis snarled, and turned, fury on his face. “Cor couldn't best Gilgamesh, what in the goddess's name made you think you would?” He stood with his fists balled and his shoulders back, chin up, wounded pride on full display. “The chances of you dying were so high, Gladio, and you left without a word of where you were going.”

“But I didn't die,” Gladio began, leaning back up off the door and taking a step forward, towards Ignis. There was still most of a hotel room between them, but Gladio felt less like he was on the defensive if he faced it head on.

“And if you had?” Ignis asked, the heat of his anger more palpable than the heat in the air. “What would have been the first we knew, Gladio? Would Cor have carried what little was left of you back?” He stopped, threw a hand into the air. “No,” he answered his own question, “of course he wouldn't. You said yourself that those who fail have to stay, and become part of the trial for the next _damned fool_ who thinks he's worthy.” He turned his attention back to Gladio, eyes fixed on him. “So what would have been the first we knew? How many more weeks would we have waited before we found out you'd never be coming back at all?”

Ignis's voice cracked in the last half of that sentence, and Gladio felt it more keenly than a shout, more sharply than anger. “Iggy,” he said, rushing forward, guilt lancing through him like Ignis had envenomed him with it, starting at his heart.

Ignis held a hand up and took a step back. “No,” he said, his voice back under control. “I'm too angry with you. You abandoned _Noct_ to go and do this. Leaving me is one thing, Gladio, but you walked away from him without telling any of us what you were planning.”

Gladio halted, and frowned. “If I told you,” he said, “you'd have tried to talk me out of it.” Cor had tried, after a fashion. Cor had warned him, anyway. He'd told him he might not come back, that he'd failed himself and paid the price. The price which, it turned out, was a cool nickname.

“I wouldn't have _tried_ ,” Ignis replied, sharply. “I'd have tied you up with the guide ropes of your own bloody tent if necessary to stop you going,” he said, and then raised a hand, pointing a sharp finger at Gladio, “and you can tell the Marshal that I'll be having words with him when next we meet, too.”

Gladio held both of his hands up, as if Ignis's finger was a gun. “Believe me, I'll warn him,” he said. Gilgamesh and his ghostly companions were nothing compared to a scolding from Ignis. “I'm sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” he added, “but I'm not sorry I did it.”

Ignis lowered his finger as he sighed. He turned away, to look out of the window, towards Lestallum. “How long have you been keeping that in?” Gladio asked, lowering his own hands.

“Since this morning,” Ignis answered. “I didn't really sleep last night,” he waved a hand as he spoke, making slow circles in the air, drawing the words out of himself, “after I realised I could have lost you, and never known.”

Gladio sighed. “You'd have known,” he said.

Ignis looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “When Cor finally decided to grace us with his presence again?” he asked. “He's supposed to be helping us find the royal tombs, not encouraging Noct's sworn shield to go off challenging two thousand year old demi-gods for bragging rights.”

Gladio scowled at that one. “No,” he said, firmly, “you'd have just known. I would if it was you,” he added, quietly, aware that the sentiment was both _mushy_ and ridiculous, but it felt like the truth. If anything happened to Ignis, he'd feel it in his heart before anyone had to say a word to him; he was too much a part of it. “And it _wasn't_ for bragging rights.”

“No,” Ignis replied, “you got Cor's old sword out of it, too.”

Gladio sighed, and put a hand on Ignis's shoulder. “Ignis,” he said, “Noct is the Chosen King, the True King. The _last_ King. What faces him is going to be worse than anything any of his ancestors faced, and the same goes for me, and mine. I had to know I was strong enough to get us both through it.”

“And if you weren't?”

Gladio squeezed Ignis's shoulder beneath his fingers. “Then I was leaving him to you. Your brain gets us out of more trouble than my muscles do.”

“You're sure he's the King of prophecy?” Ignis asked, his voice so faint it was heartbreaking.

Gladio bowed his head, and frowned. “Gilgamesh was,” he said.

Ignis turned, looking at Gladio with a sadness in his eyes. “Then he's got a long, difficult road ahead, and he's going to need all of us.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed.

A solid steeliness returned to Ignis's expression. “Then there'll be no more haring off on idiotic notions of proving our strength.”

Gladio allowed himself a smile. He had a lot to make up to Ignis, but it was a relief to see him returning to his usual bossy self, instead of vacillating between angry and quietly heartbroken. “Yes, captain,” he answered.

“And if you ever _dare_ do that to me again, Gladiolus Amicitia,” Ignis said, green eyes fixed on Gladio's amber ones, “I will personally see to it that you regret it for the remainder of your extremely short life.”

Gladio ran his hand up from Ignis's shoulder, following the line of his neck, and finding his jaw before he stepped closer. Ignis tilted his head back as Gladio pressed in so close they were breathing each other, and bent down, staying half an inch away from Ignis's lips as he promised, “I will never walk away from you again.”

“Not without telling me where you're going,” Ignis said, still looking up at him.

“I promise,” Gladio confirmed, and then closed the remaining distance to take a kiss from Ignis's lips. He wanted to promise that he'd never walk away from Ignis again, ever, for any reason, but he couldn't. Not with a future so uncertain, not with the weight of Noct's destiny bearing down on them all.

Ignis was pliant in his arms, and under his tongue, fingers curling into the leather of his jacket as Gladio coiled his arms around Ignis and held him tightly. The best he could really do, the most honest promise he could make, was that he'd always want to come back.

Maybe, he thought, as he guided Ignis over towards the bed, it was time to go shopping for that ring.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come and say hi, or just add me and then never actually pluck up the courage to say hi, because I do that too. There are multiple ways to contact me on my profile, I promise I don't bite.


End file.
